It's a comfort thing
by Alexiper
Summary: Katniss and Johanna don't naturally seek each other out, but circumstance throws them together. JONISS. Starts with "Catching Fire," right to the end of "Mockingjay." Rated M.
1. The Arena

Hey, all. I got into this ship really recently, but it stuck with me sufficiently to want to write about it. Starts deviating from canon starting with the second part of Mockingjay.

* * *

I don't know when she first catches my attention. As a rule, I never watch the Games beyond the point where the District 7 tributes get killed, which usually isn't that far in. But I remember keeping an eye out for Katniss Everdeen. And when she wins—even if it's thanks to the sappy romance Haymitch concocted for the Capitol audience—I'm silently glad. I remind myself to keep an eye out for her next year.

Next year, of course, I'm in there with her. When Snow reads out the paper, I'm livid. My first thought is of Finnick. Apart from Blight—whom I only care about by circumstance—he is the only one I've really gotten along with over the years. I find myself torn between the desire to save him, and the desire to have him with me in the arena. The pool of victors in District 4 is comparatively large, but the odds still aren't in his favor. As for me... Well, I know I'll die in there. It's almost impossible to survive the arena once. Twice? I know I won't make it.

That's when I first think about her. The Girl on Fire. I know she'll be the only female victor of her District, too. We're the only ones, I realize; in every other district there are at least two female victors. Some of them old and crippled, granted, but at least they have a shot. Katniss and I... For a second, I stop feeling sorry for myself and think about the Girl on Fire. At least I got a few year's reprieve before they sent me back in. I can't imagine what it's like to go back in only months after you got out. Then my heart hardens and I return to myself. Even if I don't make it out of the arena, I won't go down without a fight. And if I have to kill Katniss Everdeen in the process, I'll do it in a heartbeat.

Only I don't get to, of course. I get in on the plan only after the reaping, when several tributes have been informed already. It's Finnick who tells me. There is an undercover plan to save the Everdeen girl. Of course, I've heard about the outbreaks in other districts, but I don't know the extent of it, and either way I've gotten too cynical to think anything will come of it. But at Finnick's news, I feel a spark kindling in my heart. If there's a plan to break this girl out of the arena right under Snow's nose, that must mean the rebellion has penetrated right into the heart of the Capitol. And that means there might a chance, _finally_ , to make a stand against them. Finnick tells me one of the Gamemakers—maybe even the Head Gamemaker—is in on the plan. We just have to make sure to keep the Everdeen girl alive until the rescue mission arrives. When we're at the training center, Haymitch circulates the news that, because the girl is determined to get her bloody fiancé out, we'll have to save the fiancé too. If we don't, any chance of keeping her in an alliance—which we need if we want to protect her—is off.

"She'll be tough to convince," Haymitch says. "But I'll try my best."

She's suspicious, then. Good, I think. Trust is a traitorous friend. Victors, of all people, should know that.

We meet for the first time in the elevator, when—I couldn't help myself—I strip down, allowing her idiot fiancé to zip me open. I would've asked Katniss, just to see the look on her face, but I doubt that would've gotten me naked. And I wanted to see her reaction to that more than anything. She's priceless. So pure. I am surprised. Anyone who survives the arena could surely not be so innocent.

I keep an eye on her during out days of training. She doesn't come to me personally, but I talk to her fiancé. To my surprise, I find I like him. He's approachable, talkative, even. He doesn't seem to mind my sarcasm. But even during the lunch that we all share in the training room, I don't talk to the girl herself, and I'm surprised to find that I want to. But I don't, because I'm Johanna Mason, and I don't talk to anyone who doesn't think it worth their time to talk to me.

When I see her shoot at the archery station, I'm as impressed as anyone. The girl can shoot, all right. And her focus, poise, and exactness as she targets the holograms have an elegance to them that I hadn't expected. I never thought archery could be elegant. I don't need to tell Haymitch I'm interested in making allies, so I don't, but it doesn't seem to matter anyway. I find out through Finnick that Katniss only seems interested in Mags as an ally, of all people, and Nuts and Volts.

"We'll just have to force ourselves on her," Finnick says.

"That sounds like a nice job for you, sugar boy," I say, smirking. "I'm not good at making friends."

Finnick cocks his head. "You know, that's exactly what she says about herself."

I look up to see if he's playing with me, then narrow my eyes. "Whatever. You take care of her."

He shrugs. "Fine by me. Seems like I'm the best person to do it, anyway."

"What the hell does _that_ mean?" I ask, annoyed. As if I couldn't protect Katniss.

He looks at me curiously. "Because she wanted Mags as an ally."

Realization dawns. "Ah."

"And if she wants Mags, she'll have to take me too," he says, finishing the thought.

"Well, then it seems like it's up to you, sugar boy."

He shrugs. "Then you'll have to take District 3. If you save them for her, Haymitch says she might just accept you as an ally. But he didn't get the impression that she liked you much."

For a second, I am almost hurt. Then I remind myself that I don't care. I'm just in this for the rebellion, not for her.

"Oh, and one more thing," Finnick says. "It's of the utmost importance that her tracker gets cut out the day of the rescue. She and Peeta don't know anything, so she won't to do it herself. I don't know where she'll be that day, or with who, but if she's with you, you'll have to do it. Same goes for Peeta. And you'll have to cut out your own, too. But Katniss goes first. Understand?"

I only nod. There are worse jobs in the world.

Because of our little moment in the elevator, I know that Peeta's baby bomb must be a lie. Even so, I admit I'm a little shocked at first, not at the lie so much, but at the boy's guts. I applaud him for it, though, because his 'confession' was the only real thing which might have put a stop to the Quarter Quell. But it's all to no avail. And as I move back up to the seventh floor of the training center, I know I'm going in again.

It's different, though, because I'm going in for a different reason. This time, it doesn't feel like I'm just going in to slaughter and be slaughtered. I'm going in to prove a point. To stoke a fire into this rebellion, which apparently only the Girl on Fire can continue. So I go to bed—with no illusions of sleeping—thinking about the Mockingjay. I'll save her, all right.

I don't have the same information that Finnick has, but I trust that I know everything I need to know. He seems to have regular meetings with Haymitch, so he should know what we need to do to get her out of there. Even with the prospect of a rescue mission, though, I still don't have any illusions of getting out of there myself. I never was a symbol for anything. I'm a good fighter, but apart from that, I'm dispensable. I've never been well-liked, either in the Capitol or in the districts. I'm just an instrument. But there are worse reasons to die.

The day arrives, and I just catch a glimpse of Finnick taking Peeta and Katniss into the jungle, when I take Nuts and Volts into another part of it. I hope we may run into one another at some point. For now, though, I have to worry about Volts getting a knife in the back, Nuts going more nuts, and dehydration. I think our problems are solved when it starts raining, but of course it wasn't rain; the Capitol isn't that helpful. But the rain drives us out of the jungle, and back on the beach we find them: Finnick, Peeta, and the object of this mission. She seems confused that I saved Nuts and Volts for her; we didn't seem exactly chummy in training, I suppose. She seems to accept it, but I can see a trickle of doubt in her eyes. She knows something's up, all right. I wonder how long it will take for her to figure it out.

When we get to the cornucopia, and the island starts spinning, I feel an unfamiliar kind of desperation as I feel her hand slipping from mine. It's all I can do not to start screaming my head off. _You bitch, you stupid, you let go of my hand_. But it's okay, because she's back up, and I run to see if she's okay. Lover Boy catches up with me soon and takes over, and I feel a pang. I can't forget the feeling of her hand slipping from mine. It's the stupidest thing to get nightmares about, but the sting of despair stays with me longer than I'm willing to admit. But I get myself together. When you're in the arena, you get over things more quickly than usual.

I see her run into the jungle after her sister's voice, and the sight of her pressing her hands against her ears and curling into a quivering ball makes the bile rise in my throat. When the hour is over, and I hear Peeta prattle to her about Prim, I feel the anger explode inside me, and even though it's the Capitol that's my prime target, I know some of my rant is directed at her. When I finish my little tirade, I look at her because I want to see the look on her face. _There's no one left that I love_. I'm surprised to see that it does touch her, even in some small, incremental way. I hurry into the jungle.

The bread arrives with the parachutes, and I know it must mean something by the way Finnick is handling it, but I don't know what. But I trust he knows what it means. Volts seems to be in on it, too, because he and Finnick exchange a glance, and that same morning he proposes his master plan to us. So the rescue mission is on the way. We head up to the lightning tree, and when Volts sends Katniss and I to the beach, and she and Peeta protest, I know we'll have to push through. If Peeta dies, the alliance will be off, but if she and Peeta go off alone, they're liable to run off. And he doesn't know to cut out her tracker. I'll just have to deliver her in one piece, and hope Finnick can do the same for Peeta. When Katniss and Peeta hug goodbye, Finnick and I exchange a glance. He nods at me. I nod back.

I know we're in trouble when the wire gets cut. I see the Careers before Katniss does. In a flash, I knock her out with the spool, and try to ignore her cry when I dig my knife into her arm and take out the obnoxious piece of plastic. I kneel over her, put my hand over her mouth and look hard into her wide, scared eyes. "Stay down," I hiss, and then I'm off to draw away the Careers. I feel good now, because I did what I had to do. I cut out her tracker. And I'm leading off her potential killers. I send a quick prayer out to Finnick as I barrel through the forest. The night is getting dark, and I know twelve must be getting near. I feel my heart beating in my throat, because whatever's going to happen, it must happen anytime now. I stop short as the lightning hits, whipping my head around as a sudden fear clenches around my heart. _Is she safe?_

Then I feel myself blown back as the forcefield blows out, and when I wake up again I'm in the Capitol. When they come for me with their question, I laugh because I know I've succeeded. _Where is Katniss Everdeen?_ they ask me, over and over again, and I laugh in their faces. It doesn't last long, of course. They don't need me on television like Lover Boy, so they can do with me whatever they want. After a few days, I lose all sense of time. I don't tell them anything. Katniss is safe, and the rebellion lives. And that's all that matters.


	2. Troubled Nights

Second chapter! I've written most of this already, so I'm just posting by pieces...

* * *

I'm surprised when the rescue mission arrives. I'd given up on myself the second I woke up in the Capitol. I'm disoriented when I awake in the hospital ward, and for a moment I don't believe it when I see Plutarch, the Head Gamemaker, standing above me, explaining that they've rescued the victors from the Capitol. We're all in 13 now. We're safe.

It takes me a while to figure out that this wasn't a hallucination, or a dream. I drift in and out of consciousness, aided by morphling. I feel better, though my muscles keep cramping up in my sleep, and when I wake up I feel sore. Whenever I hear a sudden noise—or _think_ I hear a sudden noise—my body tenses to prepare itself for another jolt of electricity. It's the worst thing they did to me. I don't think I'll ever recover.

When I see _her_ sitting next to my bed, though, I'm sure it can't be a hallucination, because she looks nothing like the girl I've been seeing in my dreams. The girl in my dreams looks fierce, strong, and beautiful. This girl looks haunted, frail, and defeated. But she's sitting with me. She doesn't change her position when I wake up. We look at each other for a long moment. Something's wrong with her voice—her throat looks red and raw—because when she says "hi," her voice is a rasp.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. "Hi" seems just about the most inadequate thing to say right now. But then, what else is there to say? I decide to humor her.

"Hi." I pause. "You look like crap."

For a second, I'm not sure if _she_ 's going to laugh or cry. Instead, she sighs. "You've looked better, too," she says, but there's no humor in her voice.

I look at her with pity. "Aww, you feel guilty, Mockingjay?"

"I'm done feeling anything," she says. She looks away.

I roll my eyes. "Then why are you here?"

She shrugs. "I came to see you."

"Why?"

"I..." She plucks at her pants. "I don't know."

I huff. "How's Lover Boy?"

Tears spring into her eyes. She shakes her head. "He's... They..."

My face sags. "Not good, huh?"

"They've changed him. I—he... He's not going to get better."

I want to ask her to put him on a scale of one to ten in terms of fucked-upness, but I sense this wouldn't go over well. We're all fucked up beyond healing, no doubt, but it must be really bad for Katniss to react like this.

"Shouldn't you be with him, then?"

She looks up, then shakes her head. "I can't, they... When I first went to see him, he tried to kill me." She gestures at her throat.

For a second, I feel a surge of anger. He tried to _kill_ her? Then my anger makes way for puzzlement. Why would Peeta kill Katniss? That doesn't make any sense. Unless...

"Oh my God..."

Katniss grimaces.

I feel for her for a second, then I sneer. "So you thought you'd come to me, since you can't be with your fiancé?"

"What? No, I..." She gets up from her chair. I feel nothing as she looks down at me, but I start a little as she takes my hand. "I know what they did to Peeta," she says quietly. "But I know that you must have had much worse."

"So you _do_ feel guilty."

"I guess I do." She sighs. "Look, if you want me to go..." And she's withdrawing her hand from mine, and I get a horrible flashback to when I felt her hand slip from mine before, in the arena.

"No," I say, gripping her retreating hand. "Please don't go."

She looks down at me for a second, then nods. She sits back down in the chair, never letting go of my hand. She stays with me until I fall asleep.

When I wake up again, she's gone.

She comes to visit me regularly after that. We don't talk, for the most part. She often comes at night—I suppose she can't sleep either—though it's hard to tell, since there are only artificial lights down here. I let it slip out one day that I miss the forest back home, and a few hours later she comes back with a bundle smelling of pine. The gesture makes my eyes water, and she looks worried.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," I say, annoyed with myself. "It's..." _Beautiful?_ That doesn't sound right. I settle on "sweet," though that doesn't seem right either.

She seems relieved. "I thought you'd like it."

I sniff the bundle again as she turns to leave, and I feel tears rise in my throat. "Don't leave, please," I choke out.

She turns back, startled.

"Please," I say. The smell of pine stings in my nostrils, and I think I'll drown without something to hold on to.

She comes back, and I cling to her hand like a lifeline.

"Please," I say again, and I don't know what I'm pleading for, but she seems to understand. She sits back down in her chair, and with tentative fingers she traces my forehead. Then, softly, she starts to sing.

Later, I realize this was the song she also sang to the girl back in the 74th Hunger Games—Rue, I think her name was. With any other person, I probably would've thought it sappy or sentimental, but right then, I remember feeling touched. Not just because of the act itself, but because Katniss Everdeen had a voice which made the birds stop singing. It was beautiful. It registers somewhere that this is a lullaby. If anyone else had sung me a lullaby, I would've hit them, probably. But now, I can only look at Katniss as she holds my hand, traces my face with the other, and sings to me. At first, it makes me feel vulnerable and small, but then a peace washes over me that I haven't felt in years. Not since I before the reaping.

She sings it out all the way to the end. _Here is the place where I love you_.

As the melody stops, I look at her lips for a second, puzzled as to why the words have stopped coming. Then I look into her eyes. "Thank you." My voice sounds tiny.

She smiles. "You're welc—" she starts, but the second word is interrupted by a huge yawn.

I snort, then sigh. "Look," I say. I don't let go of her hand even as I scoot over to make room. "You can't keep running away from sleep."

She stares at me.

I nod at the empty space next to me. "Well, get in, brainless."

"What?" she says. "No, I couldn't, that'd be..."

"What? Weird?" I say. "Please. If you're going to be here anyway, you might as well lay down."

She frowns at the empty spot. Fatigue wins over decorum, though, and she relents. "All right."

I let out a sigh. "Then get in."

She smirks at me as she chucks off her shoes and gingerly gets into bed. I can tell she's trying not to disturb it too much, possibly afraid any sudden motion will hurt me. Even though she's small, the bed doesn't seem quite big enough for both of us, and she twists and turns to try to find a position where she doesn't have to touch me.

"Ugh, just lay down already," I say, and when she lays down on her back, I sling my hand over her stomach and pin her down with half of my body. She seems shocked at first, but then relaxes. "See?" I say, looking up at her. "That's better."

She smiles sleepily. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

She doesn't fall asleep immediately. We settle in slowly, and one of her hands snakes timidly around my shoulders, and starts caressing my head, on which my hair is slowly starting to grow back. Her other hand is on her stomach, intertwined with mine. I sigh. I forgot how comforting it could be; to have another body next to you. I close my eyes, and am about to drift off, when I hear Katniss' voice.

"Johanna?" she whispers.

"Yes," I say, deliberately slurry, to hint that I'd almost fallen asleep.

She hesitates. "Why don't you wash?"

Her voice is curious, not accusatory, but I immediately tense up. When I want to draw away, though, her arms keep me from moving.

"How do you know?" I ask, and my voice _is_ accusatory. I immediately wonder if I stink, and I feel a blush climb onto my cheeks.

Katniss shrugs. "The nurse tells me you refuse to shower. I wondered why."

I can't tell her. And for once, I want to. I _want_ to confide in her, but I can't. I guess she feels me shaking, because she sits up, and cups my face.

"Hey," she says. "What is it?"

"I can't," I say, shaking my head. "I can't, they..." My muscles twitch reflexively, as I remember the electricity jolt through my body, and when I look back at Katniss, I see realization dawning in her eyes. Then horror. I don't know how she knows, but she does. I realize I might have said things in my sleep. Maybe she saw my muscles spasm during her nightly vigils. Maybe she's even had to pry her hand away from my clenching fingers.

I can see that she knows, and in my eyes she sees that I know she knows. She gulps for breath.

"Oh God, Johanna..." she says, and I don't know why, but she's clutching at me now as if _she's_ the one who needs to be comforted. I let her hold me as I feel her breath stabilize. It's okay now, I think. She knows now. Drained, I put my head down on her shoulder, and I fall into a troubled sleep. When I wake up, she's gone again.

She comes back, though, and now she crawls into bed with me without grumbling. I don't know if she sleeps; I think she tries fighting it. But I feel better knowing that I gave her the chance to, at least. And if I'm being honest, I like having her close. It's been so long since I've held somebody—since I've been held by somebody.

She gives me updates on District 13. The general workings, but also more specific things. About Finnick, who is—predictably—wrapped up in Annie, which explains why he hasn't been in to see me yet. She sporadically tells me about Peeta's treatment, but I never push the subject. I can see it's a sore topic for her. He doesn't seem to be doing well. She tells me about the rebellion; almost all of the districts are rebelling now, except for 2. I infer that her fake cousin—Gale, I think his name was—has gone to 2 to help out there. She had briefly considered going herself, but she didn't have much fight left after she discovered what they did to Peeta. Besides, President Coin didn't seem to have much use for her anymore. The Mockingjay's job, it seems, was mostly done.

I ask her about what she's had to do as the Mockingjay so far, and she tells me a little. About the propos, about the hospital bombing in 8. She almost makes me laugh by recounting how horrible she was in the studio, and by telling me about her prep team. I can sense that she wants to ask me things, too, but she never does. I feel grateful for that. It's easier to listen than to talk.

Sometimes, when I get nightmares, she's there to wake me up. She never offers any words of comfort, but she just holds me until the shaking stops. It seems we understand each other without using much words, as absurd as it seems. But maybe we are alike, I think. Maybe Finnick was right.


	3. Training and Showers

Unrelated question: am I the only one who thinks Peeta was massively mis-cast in the movie? I mean, not only doesn't he physically look anything like the guy described in the book, but he's also not half as charming and witty as book-Peeta. (Admittedly, JLaw was probably a lot taller than Katniss—who is described as quite short. But I like JLaw as Katniss. But Peeta...) I actually liked book-Peeta. And nothing against Josh Hutcherson, but movie-Peeta just seemed like a whiny guy to me.

* * *

One night, I wake up to her thrashing, and I realize she finally must've fallen asleep.

"Katniss," I hiss, shaking her. " _Katniss_! You're dreaming."

"No, please, don't," she moans.

"Katniss!" I say, louder now. "KATNISS!"

"Cinna!" she yells as her eyes shoot open. She blinks at me. After a moment, she slumps back. I don't say anything, but I feel a pinch in my heart as I see a tear rolling from her eyes.

I crawl up on the bed, laying my head down next to hers, and I reach out my hand. Gently, I touch her face and wipe her tears away. She cries quietly, until there're no more tears left. When she opens her eyes, they're red and hollow.

"They killed Cinna," she says.

I say nothing. I figured they must've killed Cinna; it shouldn't even have surprised me. But I never heard about it personally, and the news still hits me. I liked Cinna, even though I never knew him.

She turns to look at me. "They killed him right in front of me."

My thumb stills on her cheek.

"Right before the Games. I was in the tube, and it was supposed to go up. But it didn't go up, and then two Peacekeepers came in and they, they..." She gulps, and I can only pull her in as another wave of tears hits her. I rock her gently, pressing my cheek against the crown of her head. I don't let go as her sobs subside, and only loosen my grasp as I feel her pull back. She moves to lie on her back again. Now, I settle my hand on her stomach, and her hand quickly finds mine. We look at each other. "I never told anybody that," she says.

I cock my head. "You didn't?"

She looks down. "At the time, it wasn't important, you know? I mean, I knew... They just did it to destabilize me. And then the Games started and it was just one minute to the next. And anyway, it's not as if I could've said something about it in the arena, with all of Panem watching."

I snort, and she smirks at me. She knows I wouldn't have had any problems shouting it out to whomever, but she doesn't think like that. She had other people to protect, after all.

I sigh, looking down at our intertwined hands. I want to ask why she's telling me now, but maybe it's just because of the dream. If someone else had been here with her, she would've told it to someone else.

As if sensing my thoughts, she squeezes my hand. "I haven't sang to anyone else either."

I frown, and she blushes.

"I mean, I have, obviously," she says. "To Prim, and, to Rue, in the arena, but never..." She falters, then looks up at me. I understand. She's always sang to people who needed her protection. Prim, Rue... Those she felt protective about. And while I'm not sure how she feels about me, I know I can't fall into the same category as Prim and Rue. I'm pretty sure she never sang to Peeta, either. She never sang to a— _what are we, exactly?_

The thought catches me off guard, and for the first time I wonder what we're doing here—sleeping together, confiding in each other. Of all people to spend time with, I didn't think _I'd_ be her first pick. And yet she's here, with me. The thought sends all kinds of sensations through my body that I find too confusing to interpret, so I just lie down and bury my face in her shoulder. Soon, she curls her arm around my back, and I'm pretty sure she must've fallen asleep as well, because when I wake up, she's still there. I get to witness her sleeping for five whole minutes before she wakes up and excuses herself. But it's enough to know that I'm in trouble. She's beautiful when she sleeps. Angelic, almost. I feel a rush of protectiveness as I look over her, which I know has nothing to do with my job of protecting her in the arena. That was then. This is something entirely different.

It is two weeks after Katniss starts occupying my bed when I am discharged, and she drops by telling me we're sharing a compartment. "They won't let you have your own compartment, since you're still on morphling withdrawal," she says. "They don't think you're stable enough, I think. So I offered to share a compartment with you. Should beat the hospital, right?"

I frown, suspicious. I don't know why she's doing this for me.

She shrugs. "We'll be right across from my mom and my sister. They just want to know you're not alone."

And the thought that I _won't_ be alone almost scares me as much as the thought that I would be.

She offers me a faint smile. "Come on," she says. "I don't have all day."

She takes me into the elevator, and I marvel at the size of 13. When I look at her in the elevator, she smiles at me. "Impressive, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I grudgingly admit. When we arrive on what is apparently the right floor, she leads me through several corridors. "We've all been reassigned new compartments since the bombing," she says. "The upper levels are all gone, but they have a lot of room here in 13."

"No shit," I say. I almost bump into her as she stops and turns around.

"We're here."

In our compartment, I find a set of the standard shapeless, colorless jumpsuits they all wear here, and some basic things: toothbrush, washcloth, towels... I take up the towel and shudder, then put it down quickly. But one look at Katniss tells me she's seen it.

The first night, we sleep in our own beds—at least, we pretend to. I can't sleep; I'm still experiencing withdrawal from the morphling, and she... She's still having nightmares. I'm sure it's three in the morning when I wake her up as she's thrashing around.

"Come on, brainless," I say as I climb into her bunk. She didn't ask for it, but she doesn't protest. "Let's pretend to get some sleep."

And to my surprise, we do. We both do.

When we wake up the next day, I'm confused at first as to what we're going to do.

"Didn't I tell you?" Katniss says. "We're training."

My eyes flit up at that. We're sitting on our bunks, across from each other, and I'm trying not to stare as her nimble fingers twine her hair into a braid. I shake my head.

"District 2 joined the fight," Katniss says, tying up her braid. "In a few weeks, 13 is moving in on the Capitol." She smiles, then looks down at her fingers. "So... I'm going, at any rate, and I thought you'd like to join as well."

I take a breath. She looks at me anxiously. "You do want to go, right?"

Then, my features relax into the first genuine smile I've produced since I've been discharged. "Of course, brainless. I want to kill Snow as much as you do."

She smirks. "Coin already promised him to me, though. You'll have to beat me to it."

I smirk wider. "Challenge accepted."

She laughs, and it's a beautiful sound. "Great. Well, anyway. Coin said she'd only let us go if we'd join training, and then maybe the review board would let us go."

"The review board?" I ask, crinkling my nose. "We're victors. What do we need training for?"

"Ex _actly_ ," she says. "We're victors, not soldiers. I think we'll both have a tough time following orders."

I grudgingly admit that she might be right about this.

"Besides, we're both out of shape."

"What, you too?" I ask. I've been in the hospital, so I can't very well be expected to be fit, but surely she's had a chance to train.

She looks away. "I never really went to training. I didn't want to be ordered around anymore, but..." She looks back up, taking a deep breath. "If that's what it takes to get to the Capitol, I suppose I'll have to get in line."

I snort. "No kidding, brainless."

She glares at me, but there's a smile in her eyes. "Come on then, _brainless_ ," she says. "We'll need a good breakfast if we want to survive training."

Survive training, we do, but only just. It's physically heavy on both of us, but both of us are determined, and though we're knackered by the end of the day, we're satisfied. I don't think I'll be able to get up the next day, but Katniss drags me out anyway, and by some small miracle, we make it to the end of the week. I'm used now to being addressed as "Soldier Mason," and I eat at the same table as Katniss and her prep team, Gale—who has just returned from 2—and his family, and Finnick and Annie.

Rooming with Katniss is definitely better than my hospital bed, but I knew living in the same compartment would mean she'd notice things. Things I don't want her to know. So on the fifth day of our cohabitation, she stands next to my bed just as I'm about to settle in for the night, a towel in hand, telling me that I should take a shower. That I've been getting just as sweaty and grimy from training as she has, and yet I haven't once taken a shower all week. I'm sure the betrayal she sees in my eyes looks exactly like the betrayal I saw in her eyes when I dragged her down to cut out her tracker. I start to back away from her, but she grabs my arms.

"No, listen!" she says. "Please."

"I can't do it," I say, shaking my head. "I can't."

"You can," she says, but I keep shaking my head. "You _can_. You just have to try it."

I turn away from her. "Why are you even here?" I ask. It's the first time since she first came to me that I question her presence, and the incongruity of the question isn't lost on her. She cocks an eyebrow at me. Then, her expression softens.

"Come on," she says. She extends her hand, and I eye it wearily. "I'll _help_ you."

For a brief but intense moment, we fight a battle between our eyes, and two sides are battling in my head, too: a side that is scared to death, vulnerable, and weak, and a side which is curious to see how the Mockingjay is planning to 'help' me.

Finally, Katniss loses patience with me, and she drags me into the tiny bathroom attached to our compartment. " _Dammit_ , Johanna, you're having a shower. If I have to drag you in there."

And drag me, she does. Luckily, it's around bed time, so nobody will have to hear me scream. When we enter the bathroom, she posits me in the middle of it and abandons me for a brief moment to close the door. She locks it.

"Come on," she says, and before I can protest she walks over to the shower, and turns it on. As if she knows I'm about to run, she turns back to me and takes my arms, forcefully. Fighting her seems useless. Running seems impossible. The mere sound of running water starts me shaking, and the world starts to swim in front of me as I allow her to guide me to a plastic bench attached to the wall. I slump down onto it as my whole body begins to convulse, the sound of running water beating into my head. Just like Katniss when she was assaulted by the Jabberjays in the arena, I curl into a ball and cover my ears. I'm about to start rocking when I feel my hands being grabbed.

"Johanna," I hear, and when I open my eyes I see a blurry version of Katniss, sitting in front of me. She's still holding my hands. "Johanna, you can do this." Her voice sounds remote, and her face seems to be shaking, but I realize _I'm_ shaking, more and more violently.

" _No_." I shake my head, close my eyes and let my head drop back against the wall behind me. I start banging my head against the wall. "No, no, _no_."

"Johanna, _stop_ , you're gonna hurt yourself!" I hear her voice, and I feel her hand shielding the back of my head as it is about to meet the wall again.

"No, _please_ ," I sob. My hands clench on my knees. " _Please_ don't make me." I hate it. I hate that I'm here, and that Katniss gets to see me like this. But if anything, my impending wreckage only seems to make her more determined. She grits her teeth.

"Come on," she says, and somehow she manages to pull me onto my feet. I'm trembling so heavily that I don't realize what she's doing until she's lifted my nightgown over my head and pulled it down my arms, and suddenly I'm naked before her. It's impossible for her not to see the shock in my eyes. The fear. And yes, the betrayal. Katniss discards the gown and grabs my cheeks. "It's okay," she says, a strange intensity in her eyes. "You can do this."

I shake my head. "No."

"Yes, you can."

" _No."_

" _Yes_ ," she says, and suddenly she's unbuttoning her jumpsuit. She strips down her jumpsuit, her socks, until she's there in front of me dressed only in her bra and panties. She locks eyes with me purposefully as she slips off her panties too, and opens her bra. Then she stands up straight, and looks at me almost with defiance.

"Come on," she says, taking my hand and pulling me towards the shower spray.

"No," I say again. I struggle against her grip, but I don't have much strength left.

She pulls me one step further, two steps, until she's standing under the shower spray, and I can see the water flowing down her face, and matting her hair. And suddenly I see a vision of her, in my place, standing under a shower spray with two wires attached to her fingers.

"KATNISS, NO!" I yell, and before I know it, I've leaped into the shower as well, and now I'm there Katniss holds me in a death grip as my body heaves, writhes, and convulses as I feel the water flow down over me as if it was electricity itself.

But it's not electricity, and even as I feel myself sinking towards the shower floor, I'm somehow returning to my surroundings. I'm clutching at myself, rocking onto the floor of the shower, as the water rains over me. And with me here, is Katniss.

When I open my eyes, she's there in front of me again, sitting against my legs, that I have pulled against my body. She's softly caressing my legs. "It's okay," she's whispering. "I'm here, it's okay."

I don't dare to trust her. She doesn't know what the Capitol's capable of. But she's _here_. Why is she here?

"I'm here," she says. "Nothing's gonna hurt you, I promise."

Then she stands up and I almost cry out because I don't want her to leave me, but a second later she's back again, and she's squirting something into her palm, and then she rubs it into my skin. I start trembling again. It's some kind of gel, some kind of conductor, I know, and I want to bury my head back between my pulled-up legs, but she's _here_ , and she's gentle, and it feels _good_. It takes me a few moments to recognize the smell of what she's rubbing into my skin.

"It's pine," she says. "I asked Prim to make it for you. They don't have anything fancy in 13, but you can tinker a little with their stuff if you know how."

I look up at her, and she's looking at me expectantly, almost hopefully. I still can't say anything, though, so she looks down again and continues soaping what parts of me she can reach.

What parts she can reach, though, aren't many, considering my position, so when she slows down the rubbing I anticipate her question.

"You think you could stand up?"

I don't think I can, but I do anyway, and it's then for the first time that I fully appreciate that I'm in the shower with _Katniss Everdeen_ , and both of us are naked. I know this shouldn't phase me—she's already seen me naked, after all. But I've never seen _her_ naked, and though I've seen many naked women before, the girl standing in front of me somehow makes me feel shy. She's beautiful. Scarred and skinny, just like me, but beautiful. She's just a girl. But she's... Before I can formulate even a vaguely congruent thought, she starts soaping me again, and this time I really feel it—her hands on me. I'm still clutching my arms over my torso to keep me from shaking, but she soaps them anyway, and she doesn't blink as she makes her way down. Over my stomach, down my legs... Her face is right in front of my crotch at one point, but even though I feel the proximity acutely, there seems nothing sexual in it. She turns me around to soap up my back, and then she takes some shampoo to wash the little hair that has grown back on my head. I don't know how long we've been in the shower when she tells me I'm ready.

I blink confusedly. "How about you?"

She smirks. "I'm here for you, brainless," she says, taking a towel. "I take enough showers on my own."

That shuts me up. I don't say anything when she towels me dry, and I try not to stare as she dries herself off. She helps me put on my nightgown again, then changes into a nightgown herself. She takes the towel and slings it over her shoulder, then looks down at me, quivering on the bench. She smiles, and it says everything. And even though I'm scared and shaking, and I'm still angry at her for putting me through this, I understand that she had to do this as much as I had to cut out her tracker in the arena.

"Come on," she says again, and this time I don't object as she takes my hand, and we move back into our compartment. She doesn't let go of my hand until she's set me down onto my bed, and she hangs the wet towel over a chair. She puts the shower gel onto a little table, as well as the shampoo. She looks at them for a while, then walks over to the sleeping compartment. My eyes follow her every movement, I feel my heart thudding in my throat. I wonder what she'll do.

She stops next to my bed. "You okay?"

I release a shaky breath. "I think so. I... Thank you."

She shrugs. "It was the least I could do."

I don't know what it means, but I don't have to, because a second later she climbs into bed with me, and even though we've been physically close many times now, this is the first time that I'm so acutely aware of her body against mine. Her beautiful, scarred, warm, feminine... I notice that I start shaking again, but this is an entirely different tremor. Nevertheless, Katniss picks up on it.

"Hey," she says, and we're eye to eye now, our faces only inches apart.

I don't dare to talk. My heart is beating out of my chest, and the adrenaline is almost unbearable as I look into her eyes, and she looks back. I don't know who leans in first, but it doesn't matter. Our lips meet in the middle, and once I've started, I can't stop. I want more of her, and before either of us knows it our bodies are moving, as well as our lips, and my hands are moving under her nightgown, and her hands are moving under her nightgown, and it's too much but it's not enough. We come together, and once I can refocus my eyes on something solid, I find her eyes. They're as dark and aroused as I'm sure mine must be, but they're saying something, too. I see the strange intensity that I saw when she cupped my cheeks in the shower earlier. I couldn't decipher it then, but now I understand. That this is about more than just comfort. And it shouldn't be. We should just be two broken victors comforting each other, but it's more than that. She exhales, and I relax. We look at each other for a while, both of us catching our breaths. Neither of us says anything as we settle back against each other. Neither of us has any nightmares that night.


	4. Friendly Interventions

The story continues! Sorry for the delays, my motivation is in a fickle place right now. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this one.

* * *

The next morning we just get up like we always do and take up training. I can assemble a gun without a problem now, and both our stamina is better, so the trainings aren't such a hardship anymore. Instead, the trial during training appears to lie in something entirely different. I stick close to Katniss, but she distracts me, much more than before. Before, I could center myself by reminding myself that she didn't really care about me. Now, I don't know what to think of her. Of _us_. But we don't talk about it, and I try my hardest to keep my ears open for orders, and my eyes open for obstacles in the obstacle course, while not looking at the straining muscles of my sweaty training partner. It's a whole new kind of torture.

At the end of the day, we move to our compartment and she plunks down heavily into a chair. She groans with fatigue as she chucks off her shoes, and I can't help a small smirk as I take off my own shoes. She sniffs. "Okay, I'm going to take a shower," she says, picking up a towel. Just as she opens the door to head into the bathroom, she leans back in. "Feel free to join me." There's a mischievous glint in her eyes, and I think I might just melt.

I don't join her that day. It would be too much, too soon. I just wash myself as I usually do. When Katniss returns, I try not to look at her too much, but I can tell she's a little put out that I didn't take her up on the offer. I roll my eyes at her. Seriously, she couldn't really expect me to face that horror again, after yesterday. But then, yesterday was more than just the shower. Annoyed with her because she's so insufferable, and annoyed with myself for more things than I can name all at once, I throw a towel at her.

"Hey," I say, and she looks up. "If you stop being so insufferable, I promise I'll try a shower once a week, okay?"

Her response is a genuinely happy smile, and it does things to my stomach.

I roll my eyes. "Don't get smug, Mockingjay."

Her eyes crinkle, but the smile is still there. "Wouldn't dream of it."

When we lay in bed together that night, Katniss speaks up for the first time. "You know, I do have a name."

"What?" I look at her in confusion. I'm curling into her side, and she's softly caressing my still short hair.

She shrugs. "It's just... You always call me 'brainless'. 'Mockingjay,' if I'm lucky. But I do have a name, you know."

She smirks at me to say she's just kidding, but I sense a deeper seriousness. I lift myself a little so I can look at her. "Katniss," I say.

And there it is again. That wide and happy smile. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" She cocks her head as she continues toying with my spiky hair. " _Johanna_."

Hearing her say my name—my _full_ name—almost makes me squirm, and I hate it. I hate she can do this to me, so I do what I always do. I roll my eyes and lie back down. "Whatever," I say. "Let's just get some sleep."

But she lifts up my chin, so I have to look at her again. "No," she says. "I want you to say it again."

"Say what?" I say, feigning irritation, but my nerves tell me she's back in that strangely intense space that she was in yesterday evening.

"Say my name," she whispers, and then she drags my chin towards her and we're kissing, and I don't have it in me to resist, because she feels just so damn good. And when she touches me, I say her name, over and over again. _Katniss, Katniss, Katniss_.

We don't talk about this much, either. It's a new level of intimacy, but I keep telling myself this doesn't mean anything, either. First we held each other, and now we fuck. It's good, but it's just a comfort thing. We're just using each other to ward off the badness, I tell myself. No more, no less. During the day, we train together, and have lunch together. Once a week, Katniss takes me to the shower. It's still tough, and I'm still shaking like a leaf when she takes me, but she stays with me the entire time, and we always have sex afterwards, which certainly helps to motivate me. But sometimes Katniss is called up to command for her Mockingjay duties, and she still goes out with Gale for hunting trips. I try not to get jealous about it. Someday soon, this war is going to end, and either Peeta is going to get better, or if he doesn't she'll probably end up with Gale. _She's straight_ , I tell myself. _Soon she'll realize I'm not what she wants, and she'll drop me._ I can't care about her. Everyone I care about leaves.

The one other great thing about being discharged, though, is that I get to see Finnick again. I don't care much for the other people here in 13, but I've always liked Finnick, and now Annie's safe and sound back at his side, he looks truly transformed. I am really happy for him. And even though Annie takes up a lot of his time, he always makes some time for me too now, either at lunch, or after a day of training. It's nice. But what with the wedding preparations, I hadn't counted on him being so observant. When Katniss leaves with Gale to go hunting after lunch, therefore, I'm completely caught off guard as he asks me how Katniss is.

"What do you mean?" I say, trying for a puzzled smile. "You just had lunch with her, you could've asked _her_ that. I don't know where she is with her head these days."

Finnick gives me an infuriatingly knowing smile as he leans his chin in his hand. "Oh, I have an idea where her head is these days. I think you do too."

Something in his tone tells me he's not talking about the rebellion. My cheeks burn red and I grit my teeth, looking down at the remains of my lunch. They've been assigning me bigger portions than most of 13, since I need to gain weight. It seems to be working.

"It looks good on you, you know," he says, and I look up abruptly.

"What do you mean?" I say, whiny now because he's obviously figured it out. _And if he did, then how many others have?_ My face burns brighter. I decide to direct all my annoyance at Finnick, though, of course, I'm only annoyed with myself.

"Oh, you know, the whole glowing thing," he says, gesturing vaguely at his face. He smirks. "Really bring out your eyes."

I glare at him. "Jerk."

"Wow. Not one of your more brilliant insults, Jo. Need to work on that."

"Fuck you."

"You know, I would, but I think you've found someone to do the job already." He lowers his voice to a whisper. "And she seems to be doing a good job, too."

I feel my cheeks heating up again, but this time I can't stop a smile from spreading, too. Katniss Everdeen is great in bed, and I'm the only one who knows it. The thought, however pleasant, stops me short, and I look up at Finnick, unsettled.

"Why?" I ask him, my voice low. "Why do you think she's doing it?"

Finnick frowns bemusedly. "Well, I don't know, but I'm guessing it must be because she likes you."

"No she doesn't," I say, prodding a chunk of meat with my fork. "It's just a comfort thing."

"O-kay. You just basically answered your own question, but I'm going to ignore that. How do you know?"

"Well, what else could it be?" I say, stabbing the chunk. Finnick frowns, and he pries the fork from my fingers. I groan and drop my head on the table with a _thunk_. I drag my hands through my hair, and they land in my neck. I lift my head again, and fix my eyes somewhere on Finnick's chest. "I feel like such a cliché," I say. "Half the country's in love with her, for God's sakes. She's got her fake cousin, and I'm sure she'll run back to Lover Boy if he ever gets better..."

"Johanna..." Finnick says, and I resent the pity in his voice.

" _No_ , Finnick, I can't do this again," I say, and my voice is shaking. He says nothing for a while, and I lift my head further to look at his face. Apparently eye contact was what he was looking for, because when our eyes meet, he speaks.

"If you don't want to do it again, Johanna, then _don't_."

"So what do I do, turn her down?" I say, almost aggressively. I have to remind myself that people might be listening to our conversation.

"No," Finnick says. He shrugs. "You just make sure she stays."

I blink at him blankly, and for a moment I can't grasp what he just said. Then I frown, and shake my head at his absurdity. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It _means,_ Johanna, that you don't let her leave."

"But... How wouldn't I?" I say, perplexed.

"Johanna..." Finnick says, and he almost laughs. He shakes his head. "You _always_ do this. You think in advance that it's a lost cause. Why?"

"Uhh, I don't know, because she's _straight_?"

"Sure. And do straight girls routinely put their heads between your legs?"

" _Finnick_!" I whisper angrily, though I can't stop the color from rising in my face.

He chuckles. "I just mean, Johanna, that maybe you should consider that she's allowing you to do what neither Gale nor Peeta have ever done with her. And why would she do that if she didn't at least like you?"

"I told you," I snap. "It's a comfort thing."

"Hmm. Have you talked about that with her?"

" _No_ ," I say. "Of course not. Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Yes, actually, I do think you're stupid."

"Ugh. Cut the crap, Finnick. It's not because you and Annie get your happily-ever-after that everyone else will have theirs, too. Katniss..." I sigh, suddenly miserable. "Katniss is _straight_. There's nothing lasting there."

"You don't know that."

"So what should I do then?" I say, half kidding.

"Maybe nothing yet," Finnick says. "Just... Don't give up on her before you're absolutely sure that you don't have a shot."

"I _don't_ have a shot," I shoot back.

"Why?" Finnick asks, and I'm surprised to hear that there's an edge of anger in his voice. "Johanna, why is it your standard assumption that you're always going to be second? That you're not even a contender here?"

" _Contender_?" I say, snorting. "Can you hear yourself right now? It's..." I shrug. "It's futile. Gale's her best friend since childhood and Peeta... He saved her life so many times."

Finnick raises his eyebrows. "Didn't you?"

"That was different," I say, "I was doing it for the rebellion. Besides," I add, rolling my eyes. "I don't think I'll score great points by digging my _knife_ into her arm."

"To save her!" Finnick says, looking at me like I'm not making any sense. "And it was _you_ who held onto her when the cornucopia started spinning. If it hadn't been for you, she'd probably have drowned. _And_ you killed Cashmere when she was about to attack Katniss. In fact," he says, narrowing his eyes, "I'm pretty sure that whenever Katniss needed saving in the arena during the Quarter Quell, it was you who did it."

"I couldn't save her from the jabberjays," I say moodily. I don't want to admit Finnick is right, but as I rack my memory, I can't immediately find any evidence to the contrary. Ever since we teamed up with them in the Quarter Quell, it _was_ me who was there with Katniss whenever she was in danger. The jabberjays, though...

"The jabberjays weren't lethal," Finnick says, grimacing. "They were nasty, but they weren't meant to kill us."

"Still, I wasn't there."

"Whenever she was in _mortal danger_ , Johanna," Finnick says, and it's clear he's getting impatient with me. "At the cornucopia, and then when you cut out her tracker and led off the Careers." He lifts his eyebrows as if I can't possibly argue with him. "It was you, Johanna. Not me, not Peeta. It was _you._ If she's not as brainless as you appear to think she is, she won't have forgotten that."

That idea just makes me more disgusted. "So she's here with me because she feels like she _owes_ me?"

Finnick throws up his hands. " _No_ , Johanna!" he hisses. "In fact, I think that's exactly what it _isn't._ I just said it to prove that you don't have to consider yourself any less important to Katniss than Peeta, or Gale, or whomever else."

I want to yell at him. Instead, I lay my head back on the table. "So if it's not because she feels like she owes me, then what _is_ it?"

A grin slides over Finnick's lips. "I think you ought to ask her that."

I groan. "You're useless."

Finnick chuckles. "You'll thank me one day. Anyway." He gets up from the table. "I need to get back to training. And _you_ need to finish your food."

"Fuck you."

"I think we've already established that you don't need assistance with that."

I glare at him, and he chuckles again, patting me on the back before he leaves. I eat the rest of my food quickly before I join him. Katniss isn't there, because she's out hunting, but thanks to Finnick I go anyway. I'm annoyed with him, and annoyed with myself, and I'm sulky all through the afternoon, but I'm grateful he's there. He's my best friend, after all.


End file.
